


10 Months

by wistfulwatcher



Category: Glee
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-03-05
Updated: 2011-03-05
Packaged: 2017-10-16 03:01:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/167716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wistfulwatcher/pseuds/wistfulwatcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It only took a three minute song to turn Will's life upside down, but it would take ten months for him to realize it was better that way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

_Lima, Ohio_

 _William McKinley High School_

 _September 14 th, 1990_

 

Will Schuester sat in an aisle seat of the school auditorium, nervously pushing his curly hair away from his eyes. He took in the group of students to his left, across the aisle, laughing and whispering to each other.

 

Will looked away, not wanting to draw attention to himself, but before he could turn his body forward, he noticed a blonde girl sitting in the row behind the group. She obviously knew the kids in front of her, as she leaned forward to whisper to the red head the seat ahead. However, Will noticed that she wasn’t quite with them, as she leaned back to observe the interaction, a wide smile on her face.

 

Leaning back to his friend, Will kept his eyes on the girl as he said, “Mike, hey, who is that?”

 

Mike looked up from his book, leaning forward. “Who?”

 

“The blonde. In the row behind over there.”

 

Mike snorted. “Terri _Delmanaco_ ,” he stressed the last part, but Will furrowed his brow, not recognizing the name. “That’s Kendra Delmanaco's little sister."

 

“Huh.” Before Will could say anything else, an older woman stepped in front of the red curtain on the stage.

 

The woman shuffled forward, toward the lone microphone on the stage, and squinted, blocking the harsh stage light with a hand to her forehead. She spoke inaudibly near the microphone, then laughed as she adjusted the stand closer to her mouth. Will smiled, finding her awkwardness on stage endearing.

 

Finally she was situated, and she spoke clearly into the mic, a gentle smile on her face. “Good morning, students, and welcome to all of the freshmen!” There was polite applause from the house. “My name is Ms. Adler, and I am the faculty advisor for the glee club. At the beginning of every school year, the graduating seniors in the club prepare a solo to perform for you all today.”

 

Will looked around and saw Mike reading next to him. To his other side he could see the group of teens ignoring Ms. Adler, electing instead to continue their conversation. He noticed that Terri, however, was paying attention to the advisor, albeit glancing every now and then at her friends.

 

“Our first senior today is April Rhodes. And, if you enjoy what you see here, and want to be a part of glee, we will be holding auditions later on this month.” She stepped back from the microphone and down the stairs of the stage.

 

The house lights dimmed even further as the red curtain opened, revealing a petite blonde leaning against a table, her head dropped to her neck. The music started and she looked up slowly, shifting shyly away from the table.

 

 _I don’t expect my love affairs to last for long_

 _Never fool myself that my dreams will come true_

 _Being used to trouble, I anticipate it_

 _But all the same I hate it, wouldn’t you?_

As she sang she moved across the floor, her voice loud and clear, not wavering at all.

 _So what happens now?_

 _So what happens now?_

 _Where am I going to?_

 _Where am I going to?_

 _Time and time again I’ve said that I don’t care_

 _That I’m immune to gloom, that I’m hard through and through_

 _But every time it matters all my words desert me_

 _So anyone can hurt me, and they do_

Will was entranced, only closing his mouth when his tongue became dry. He looked quickly to see if anyone had seen his embarrassing state, but he noticed those around him similarly intrigued.

 _So what happens now?_

 _So what happens now?_

 _Where am I going to?_

 _Where am I going to?_

 _Call in three months time and I’ll be fine, I know_

 _Well maybe not that fine but I’ll survive anyhow_

 _I won’t recall the names and places of every sad occasion_

 _But that’s no consolation here and now_

She moved back to the table to the right of the stage, and sat on it, her hands resting in her lap.

 _So what happens now?_

 _So what happens now?_

 _Where am I going to?_

 _Where am I going to?_

The final verse of the song was soft as she let her head drop back to her neck, mirroring her opening position.

The theatre erupted into applause as Will nudged Mike with his elbow. Over the roar of the crowd, Will said, “What do you think of joining glee club?”[  
](http://wistfulwatcher.livejournal.com/3161.html#cutid1)


	2. September

_Lima, Ohio_

 _William McKinley High School_

 _Friday, September 23rd, 2011_

“Trevor! Would you please help me move these chairs?” Rachel’s voice reached from the stage all the way to Will’s chair in the back of the house. He glanced up from his clipboard to take in the scene before him; the curtain framed a few of his glee kids, shuffling about on-stage, setting up.

 

The school year had barely begun and most of the club was entering their final year at McKinley. As was a tradition in glee, all seniors would be performing a solo for the entire school. Will had given the students a few weeks to perfect their pieces, and they would be giving their show later on that afternoon.

 

“Trevor, no, I need—“ Will stifled a grin and looked back down at his clipboard. He checked off a few items on his to-do list then leaned back in his chair. The club hadn’t changed much from the first year he’d been the advisor, though it had seen some adjustments.

 

Puck had dropped the club (and the rest of high school) halfway through Junior year. Will suspected there was some fallout with Quinn that never got fully resolved, but he’d never heard anything official. Matt was offered a football scholarship at the end of the previous year, and, after a long talk with the rest of the club, left to dedicate his time to sports.

 

The kids had been extremely supportive, and, in the end, urged Matt to take the scholarship. (“Besides,” Rachel had added, “your voice, while pleasant in an ensemble, will never get you as far as your athletic endeavors.” Will had been about to reprimand her when Matt gave a little laugh and looked down—by that point they all had learned to accept such a comment as a compliment.)

 

Back on the stage Rachel was standing with her back to the not-yet-present audience, her hands on her hips as she directed a thin-again Quinn and Kurt to set a table to the left of the stage. Quinn had come back from her pregnancy a changed woman. She’d developed a pretty gruff exterior that only those in glee would look past, and in return, the only people she would let do so.

 

Her relationship with Mercedes had dissolved drastically after Quinn gave Beth up for adoption. In their Junior year, Asher had joined glee; he was practically a carbon-copy of Mercedes, down to the affinity for checkered scarves and diva moments. (“Mr. Schue,” Rachel had burst into the choir room early one morning just a few weeks before the kids won the first competition of the season. “I was going through my film collection this morning, and I realized that we have had a disturbing lack of Broadway numbers since our disastrous attempt at ‘Seventy Six Trombones.” Will looked down guiltily. “To rectify the situation I suggest ‘I Can Do Anything’ from _Annie Get Your Gun_.” Before he could inquire as to her desire to sing such a non-Rachel Berry song, she added, “The song will make an excellent addition to Mercedes and Asher’s repertoire.” He had them sing the song at that Thursday’s practice. They were dating by Sectionals.)

 

Mercedes’s new relationship had also caused a drift from Kurt, Will had noticed. Kurt didn’t seem to mind after a new student had joined glee at the beginning of the second semester of last year, however. George was a year younger than Kurt but neither seemed to mind, and they, too, were dating after just a few months. Quinn spent most of her time with the boys (Will’s suspicions that Quinn had sworn off dating had been confirmed a few months ago when Rachel made a fleeting comment to him after practice one day.)

 

A loud clatter from the stage brought Will’s attention back just as he heard Rachel stomp her foot and scold her peers. Pushing himself out of his chair, Will ran up to the stage. “Rachel, calm down,” he pushed himself onto the stage and stood next to the furious brunette.

 

“I _can’t_ , Mr. Schue, when the biggest moment of our lives is being sabotaged by some of our _younger_ glee-mates.” Trevor, a shy (not-very-talented) sophomore who had joined last year, shuffled his feet guiltily.

 

“Biggest moment of our—Rachel, calm yourself,” Mercedes rolled her eyes as she moved a chair to the other side of the stage.

 

Rachel looked up at Will from her place at his side, and he rested one hand firmly on her shoulder, giving it a little squeeze. “Everything looks great, Rachel. You’ve all done a wonderful job, and I’m sure it’s going to be a great show this afternoon.” Rachel seemed to relax at that, so he gave her another little pat of reassurance and dropped his hand back to his side. Furrowing his brow, Will brought his wrist to his face, checking his watch. “In fact, I think I can handle the rest. You seniors better go put on your dancing shoes. Doors open in less than a half-an-hour.”

 

A few of the girls squealed and flew from the stage (Rachel, he noted, did so with a look at her own watch, as if she didn’t believe him). The boys just looked at each other and laughed. Mike Chang set down the glittery star he was holding. “I’m just gonna go see if Tina needs any help,” he raised his brows at Finn, who laughed in return.

 

Tina and Mike had gotten closer over the summer, after she and Artie had broken up. For the most part, things weren’t awkward in rehearsals, but Will got the impression that Artie had not been the one to suggest the split.

 

While their relationship had ended alright for the time being, Finn was taking his break-up(s) much harder. After they lost Regionals to Vocal Adrenaline (and Aural Intensity, ugh), Finn and Rachel had once again become the power couple of glee club. Like the first time, however, it didn’t last very long. Finn and Rachel broke up, then got together, then broke up, yada yada yada. Will’s head started hurting during one particularly tumultuous month and lost track of their status (not that he was actually actively following them). (“It’s as if my dads knew,” he overheard Rachel telling Brittany one day, “that I would

be destined to meet my Ross. And that my hair would turn out to be as magnificent as Jennifer Aniston’s.”)

 

Eventually they had ended on civil terms, and Finn really stepped into his role of leading man. And (after a brief and uncomfortably public rebound with Brittany) he grew close to one of the newer members of glee—Lucy. She was a year younger than Finn, a devout Christian, very conservative and very outspoken (the similarities to Quinn and Rachel did not escape him, nor the rest of the club). They, too, came back after summer much closer than before.

 

As the boys followed Mike to the dressing rooms backstage, Will noticed Brittany playing idly with the curtain. The past year had been hard on the cheerleader—Santana become head Cheerio, and had quit glee (a stipulation Will was certain Sue made). Brittany had opted to stay with the club, but she didn’t seem to enjoy it as much without Santana. On top of that, Brittany had informed the group at the end of the year that she was being held back a year, and would be a Junior again this year. (“I, for one, think it may have been a good thing you decided to party and date, rather than study—think of the vocal maturity you will be able to bring to next year’s back-up singers.”)

 

 Will lifted one of the chairs in the center of the stage and moved it to its place offstage. The few remaining gleeks (the term had been introduced affectionately the summer after their crushing loss at Regionals) who were not going to be performing left the stage, heading back to join the rest of the school for the concert.

 

Will, now alone on stage, leaned against one of the tables nearby. “Mr. Schuester,” a condescending voice broke the silence and, against his better judgment, Will rolled his eyes and squared his shoulders for whatever new disaster she had discovered.

 

“Yes, Rachel?” He turned around slowly to face her, bracing himself with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

 

His preparation appeared unnecessary as the singer stood (almost) shyly before him, her arms held behind her back and her right foot shuffling silently against the hardwood floor. “We’re going to make you proud, today, Mr. Schue.”

 

Will dropped his arms to his sides, his hands sliding into his pockets as a smile slid across his face. “I know you are, Rachel. You,” he squinted slightly, “all of you, always do.” Rachel dipped her head in a small nod before turning and walking back towards her club-mates. (Furrowing his brows, Will mused that her attire had been rather strange; a simple button up, floral dress in a vintage style—not what he would have imagined for a rendition of a number from _Anything Goes_.)

 

Rachel hadn’t changed much since that first year. Granted, her diva storm-outs had cooled considerably as she had taken on the role of his assistant (not that he could actually tell you when—or how, for that matter—she had been hired). She’d also toned down the criticism of her fellow students (or, at the very least, managed to phrase it a little better; it seemed that she was more conscience of the impact her words had when she was in a role of leadership).

 

She’d changed her appearance, of course, but then what teenager didn’t? She had bangs now, blunt across her forehead, but they seemed to soften her somehow. She’d also mellowed her wardrobe a little—heels and nylons in lieu of knee highs and Mary-Janes, and the animal sweaters had become less frequent (but she seemed oddly attached to a green one with a panda on the front). She was still Rachel, though, and she showed up to rehearsal in short skirts and polka dots and bows most of the time. She’d just managed to smooth the edges of her style. She looked quite professional most of the time, actually, and less like she was playing the role of a student.

 

Will suddenly snapped out of his daze and looked at his watch, noting that the students would be filing in any minute now. With a lazy smile he straightened his tie and walked to the side of the stage, where he grabbed the microphone stand. He set it in the middle of the stage, drew the curtains closed, ran his hand over his hair and whispered, “Showtime.”

 

()()()

 

The auditorium was packed in no time, the students shuffling in and filling the seats. Will had printed up programs for the occasion, with a short senior bio for each of the kids. The house roared with talking, laughter, and, yes, some mocking cheers and hollers.

 

The club had yet to achieve the desired status he and the students wanted so badly, but this, this was their year. They’d made it to Nationals last year but had been unprepared for the caliber of performance brought by the various other regions. The glee club had been discouraged, but (after an impassioned speech from the “elected” team captain that Will caught the tail end of) it had soon turned to determination, and the team was now at its strongest.

 

Will headed backstage from his place near the orchestra pit to make sure his seniors were ready to begin. Rachel met him halfway with a wide smile, a thumbs up and a reassuring nod. He matched her, and headed back up to the microphone.

 

With a quick tap into the device, Will let his hands drop to his sides. “Good afternoon, McKinley! Today we have a special treat for you.”

 

()()()

 

Mercedes was the first out of the gate to perform; some Top 40 R&B number that she’d chosen instantly.  Artie followed, then Kurt, Tina, and Mike. The kids had all taken considerable effort in choosing their songs, and it was clear to Will that his gleeks were all-in for this performance.

 

One of the most notable differences in the atmosphere of the club was that everyone had managed to come to a degree of peace with their own identities, and the students were much better at doing things for themselves, rather than what their peers would think. That was not to say that the problem was gone; slushie facials, he learned, didn’t go away so easily, but the kids were starting to shrug them off more often. This transferred into their performances, as most of the club stopped being ashamed to represent glee.

 

After welcoming the students, Will had turned MCing over to Asher since Brittany had declined the offer a few days earlier. He’d then taken an aisle seat in one of the first rows so he could see the performances that he’d only caught pieces of over the past few weeks. (“Good things come to those who wait, Mr. Schue,” Rachel had told him as he was dragged out of the choir room one afternoon. At the door he’d been about to push the issue as he remembered a certain “Push It” routine that had turned out less-than-savory. But, as he raised a disapproving finger, Rachel’s smile had wavered. “Good thinking,” he said, as he pointed sharply. _We’ve come so far since then_ , he’d reasoned as she responded with a wide smile and the door in his face.)

 

Quinn took the stage after Mike, and performed “Good Feeling” by the Violent Femmes. During her song the house seemed to quiet just a little bit more, and Will noticed that all the Cheerios stopped talking to watch their fallen sister.

 

Finn elicited a similar reaction as he took the stage next to sing Poison’s “I Won’t Forget You,” (which he was pretty sure was directed at Quinn, not at Rachel, because, after all, Finn couldn’t have been _serious_ with Rachel, right?).

 

Finn finished his song and Asher took the mic for the last performance. “Thank you, Finn Hudson, nice job, man. Ok, last but—and she is making me say this—most definitely not least, Ms. Rachel Berry!” Will shifted in his seat to get more comfortable (and to prepare for, well, it was Rachel. He’d been waved off when he’d asked about her set, but Finn had told him she was just antsy because part of the stage hadn’t made it to Lima yet. His worried expression and, “Made it from where?” were shrugged off with a dopey grin and, “the post office?”)

 

The curtain pulled back slowly to reveal Rachel, standing alone on stage. Really alone, Will noted, in the absolute lack of any set dressing of any kind. It was, in every way, just Rachel up there. She wore the vintage dress that he’d seen earlier, but she’d styled her hair in a 1930s fashion. The orchestra stared to play softly, and Will noticed immediately that they were not playing “I Get a Kick Outta You,” as Rachel had been planning to sing. Will slid out of his seat, preparing to deal with the inevitable dispute between Rachel and the musicians.

 

 _I don’t expect my love affairs to last for long_

 _Never fool myself that my dreams will come true_

 _Being used to trouble, I anticipate it_

 _But all the same I hate it, wouldn’t you?_

 _­_ Rachel had started to sing the song Will knew so well. The band was not mistaken in their playing; she had changed her song last minute and not told him. He dropped back into his seat and watched avidly as she sang into the microphone, her vulnerability never clearer than as she stood there, stripped of her set and backup and choreography and distraction. She felt familiar. (She was breathtaking.)

 

In his aisle seat, with his mouth hanging slightly open and his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped, Will felt something connect in his brain, a neuron finally firing. The revelation snapped him back and he suddenly felt the pressure of his elbows on his knees, the dry scrape of his tongue against his teeth.

 

Swallowing slowly, Will leaned back. He looked quickly to his left, where several students were watching her with the same rapture that he had been. On stage she hadn’t moved much, mostly just a little swaying, a few steps here and there.

 

The song came to a close too soon but not soon enough and Will felt his head grow heavy with thoughts he was not ready to deal with. The curtain was closing on stage and it was Will’s turn to go up there and send everyone back to their regularly scheduled day.

 

His steps felt sluggish (which was absurd, but a reality) and Asher beat him to the microphone, noticing his advisor’s delay. “Well done to all of the talented seniors, and now,” Will caught his eye as he moved up the side stairs, “Glee’s dedicated advisor, Mr. William Schuester.” Asher stepped back and Will blinked hard and nodded his appreciation to his student.

 

“Thank you all for being here today! Now, if any of you were intrigued by my friends here, remember that Glee club will be holding auditions next week. Make sure you check the bulletin boards by the auditorium.” Will stepped back and waved as the masses poured out of the house seats.

()()()

Will had left the auditorium almost immediately after the rest of the audience, ready for the silence his office would afford him during his free period. He’d originally planned on helping the kids clean up and congratulating them on a wonderful performance (he knew they’d _all_ make him proud), but the headache building behind his eyes caused a detour in his day. The kids would just have to wait until practice on Tuesday to get his approval.

Will took a deep breath. Rachel had sung “Another Suitcase in Another Hall.” Will knew it well; it had been April Rhodes’s senior solo, and the song that had led him to join Glee club over twenty years ago. He’d been young and impressionable, and April’s talent and passion had been so inspiring. He’d been drawn to the vulnerability and emotion in April’s performance. (The same things he’d been drawn to in Rachel’s.) When he was watching Rachel he’d instantly felt like a teenager again, in absolute awe of the woman on the stage.

After Will had joined Glee, however, he was shocked to learn that April was the opposite of the shy, helpless girl that had performed. April Rhodes was about as far from shy as he could imagine; loud, opinionated, brash, and fearless, he’d soon come to learn, were more her style. In fact, after a year of her performing for her peers, he never could figure out what made her choose that song.

April Rhodes had a hold on Will, one that he couldn’t shake, even after everything that happened with her rejoining glee club when Rachel had quit. At first it had been because she was _his_ ; he was the one bringing her into glee, and if she saved the club from implosion after Rachel left, well, that would be partly his doing. It was also that, to begin with, she made him feel like a teenager (made him feel like he had when he watched Rachel earlier). But then she became the irresponsible, immature adult that she was, and it made Will feel even older than he was.

But, at that same time, she was April Rhodes: goddess. She was still loud, brash and unpredictable. And, with Rachel gone, he had to admit that she eased that (hole, ache, etc.)—well, she was a nice little substitution and oh my God why hadn’t he realized it back then?

April Rhodes was Rachel Berry. Or Rachel Berry was—they were the same, similar. Will had never really thought about what Rachel was, other than surface words like irritating, ambitious, talented, etc. But even back at that first glee audition she made him take pause.

Will’s headache had stopped throbbing, but he reached in his desk drawer for the small bottle of aspirin that would eliminate the dull ache. There was a knock on the door as Will popped the pills and took a sip of his cold coffee. “Come in.”

He pulled out a stack of papers to grade, not knowing who was on the other side of the door. (The knocking pattern and horrible timing meant it was Rachel.) She opened the door slowly, her hand timidly sneaking into his office and resting on the side of the door.  “Mr. Schue? You left without saying anything.”

Will did not want to deal with this now (as he wasn’t quite sure what “this” was), so he leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, I just—“

“I’m sorry, Mr. Schue.” Will furrowed his brow and rested his hands on the office chair’s armrests.

“About—“

“About the last minute song modification. I know you trusted me and you didn’t push watching us rehearse.” She stepped closer to his desk and he noticed she had changed back into her black skirt and pink blouse. She picked lightly at the bow above the buttons, her eyes cast downwards. She’d unpinned her hair, and it hung loosely around her face, the curls still present in her thick locks.

“I didn’t switch numbers for any reason other than my own satisfaction with my performance. I promise you, Mr. Schue.”

“I know, Rachel.” In fact, he had no idea why she’d changed to that song. He did, however, know that she meant those lyrics as much as Finn and Quinn and Kurt and all the other gleeks had meant theirs. “You did a fantastic job.” He gave her a wistful smile. “You’ll make a magnificent Evita someday.”

Rachel tilted her head to the side, a habit she had started in an effort to channel Natalie Wood for a _West Side Story_ number. With a closed-mouth smile of her own, she spoke softly, “Thank you.” She shifted her weight to her other foot and clasped her hands together. “The auditorium is cleaned out. Trevor dropped a table. He’s reassembling it right now.” Will gave a silent laugh. “Is there anything you’d like your assistant to do?”

Will looked at the stack of papers and flipped a small stack off of the top. “Spanish II tests?”

“Muy bueno,” she responded as she took the seat across from him.

 _Lima, Ohio_

 _William McKinely High School_

 _Tuesday, September 27th, 2011_

The seniors had performed their solos less than a week ago, and already it was time for the club to meet and discuss songs for Sectionals. The gleeks filled the choir room quickly, talking and laughing comfortably. After a brief rundown of the requirements for Sectionals, Will had opened the floor to suggestions.

The brain-storming process had taken some detours, now that the club all got along (for the most part). It had started off productively, with good, realistic suggestions, but by the half-hour mark, most had broken off into groups and were just chatting.

Finally, Rachel stood up and stomped her black stiletto (should those be allowed in a high school?), hands on her hips demanding attention. “Fellow gleeks, we have less than a month before we compete, you know. I feel our attention should be focused on choosing the songs that will best showcase our voices, and not on what color nail polish would best match our eyes,” she gave a very pointed look to Brittany that was completely ignored.

“Chillax, Rachel. Sectionals aren’t until _November_.” Mercedes let go of Asher’s hand as she swung around in her chair to face her leader. “As for the invitational, we could do that in our sleep.”

“Hey, we could sing ‘Jump’,” Finn volunteered from Lucy’s side. Rachel’s eyes cast downward quickly as she crossed her arms in front of herself.

“Our skill level is far beyond that. Let’s keep thinking.” With that she sat down, and remained much quieter for the rest of practice. (She also didn’t meet Will’s eyes for the next half-hour, but maybe that was his imagination.)

 _Lima, Ohio_

 _William McKinely High School_

 _September 30 th, 2011_

Will had enjoyed the monotony of the beginning of the year after the senior solos; grading the remaining tests and printing up audition sheets for the auditorium bulletin board. The sign-up sheets had gone up earlier in the week, and auditions were to be held after school today.

Rachel had been in his office almost every day that week, helping him get ready for the auditions (of which there were almost no preparations) and doing the other little jobs around his office that she usually did.

This had been the routine since last year, sometime after Regionals, but Will still couldn’t pinpoint exactly when she had started helping him. It wasn’t like she’d just showed up at his desk one morning and said, “Mr. Schue, I’m going to be your assistant.” (Except that she had done exactly that, but she’d been organizing and giving him song ideas and dance steps for so long that he’d just said, “OK,” and continued grading the homework in front of him.)

In the middle of typing up an assignment for his students, Will leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. “Hey, Rach, I have an idea to run by you.” The singer looked up from the files in her hands and tilted her head. (It was his fault for suggesting anything from _Gypsy_.) “What do you think of having a senior trip?”

“Hmmm,” she mused, as she brought her finger to her lip.

“I was thinking, since all of our original members are seniors, it would be fun for all of us to see a Broadway show together.”

Will was starting to think his idea was terrible, when Rachel broke out into a broad smile. “That’s a wonderful idea, Mr. Schue. The cost of the trip probably wouldn’t be terrible, considering there are only 600 miles between us and the Theatre District.” Will’s lip twitched in amusement and Rachel looked away before saying, “I see a lot of productions,” and ending with a sharp blink.

“Obviously.” Will leaned forward and looked at his watch. “Audition time,” he said, as he picked up his glee notebook. Rachel followed him out of his office, and he locked up. As he headed to the auditorium he realized that Rachel was still following him. “Uh, Rach?” he paused at the door to the house.

“No offense, Mr. Schue, but glee is at its optimum talent right now, and I’m worried your open-door policy to the choir room is no longer appropriate.” Will let his head drop back, dreading the conversation he was going to lose momentarily. (That was a concept he was unaware of until Rachel—how can one lose a _conversation_ , exactly?)

“Rachel,” he sighed, and opened the door. “First of all, there is always room for improvement, and second of all, glee has never turned away anyone who was interested.”

Rachel walked closely behind him as he took his place at the director’s table halfway up the seats. As he set his notebook down and took a seat, Rachel put her hands on her hips and Will knew it was over. “Because that policy has worked out so well for the club.” Will knew what she was referring to, not only Trevor, but also the disasters (to the club and her own self-esteem) caused by the presence of Jesse St. James.

Taking a different tactic, Rachel sat down in the row of seats behind the table. “I’ll just stay here to monitor the auditions, in case you need a second opinion.” Will didn’t bother looking back at her, knowing he would cave anyway.

“Fine. But no offering your opinion unless I ask for it. I mean it, Rachel.” He could feel her self-satisfied smile behind him.

 

()()()

 

The auditions had been slow, with only two students showing up; one had burst into tears just a verse into “Memories,” and the other had mistaken the audition sheet for the wrestling tryout sign-up. (“Why on earth would wrestling tryouts take place on the stage?” she’d questioned as she slid into the seat next to him.)

 

The audition sheet had a few more names than the students they’d already seen, so the two stayed in the auditorium for a little longer. There were a few names that looked suspiciously similar to each other, and he didn’t recognize them as students. Leaning over to look at the sheet, Rachel voiced his suspicions: “Isn’t that Ms. Sylvester’s penmanship?”

 

“Great. We’ve been waiting for fake students. Let’s go.” Will started to stand up, but Rachel’s hand on his forearm stopped his movement.

 

“Wait. Mr. Schue, there’s someone coming.” A young boy walked onto the stage from the wings, and handed Brad a sheet of music. Will sat down as Rachel leaned forward in her seat. He gave her a curious look at her intrigue, but smiled and looked to the stage.

 

“Name?”

 

“I’m Josh March. I’ll be singing, ‘Oh What a Beautiful Mornin’’, from _Oklahoma_.” Will saw Rachel lean even further forward out of the corner of his eye as the music started.

 

Will hadn’t seen Josh around school before, and it seemed like Rachel hadn’t either. He was almost as tall as Finn, but much leaner. His hair was dark blonde and shaggy, brushed hastily to the side. He wore an open button-up shirt over a t-shirt and jeans. His singing was pleasant, though not the best, and he had a good stage presence.

 

Propping his elbow on the table, Will leaned his head down to his fist. (His new position allowed him to see Rachel’s reaction to the boy stealthily. She was absorbed in the performance, her mouth slightly parted, her hands open palmed on the cool table. He focused his attention back on the singer, but saw in his peripheral vision as Rachel’s tongue darted out to lick her lips.)

 

Josh stood in front of the mic, not moving much and his hands in his pockets. Will pursed his lips in irritation of the habit, and held his hand up, signaling for Brad to stop. “That’s good, I’ve seen enough.”

 

Rachel’s head whipped to the side, her eyebrows tilted down. “What are you doing?” she whispered harshly. “You’re not becoming selective _now_ , are you? He’ll be good for our ensemble.”

 

Will looked back at the stage, where Josh stood, hands still in his pockets. “We have a rehearsal on Tuesday at 3:30. See you there, Josh.” He turned to Rachel, who was looking at Josh with a dopey smile. “We’re good to go, Rach.”

 

She looked at Will in confusion before standing up and smoothing her hands on her skirt. “I’m going to go welcome our new club-mate. I’ll see you later, Mr. Schue.” She practically flew down the carpeted stairs, leaving Will at the table alone. He shook his head and smiled as she stood in front of the stage, hands behind her back as she swayed almost imperceptibly side to side.

 

()()()

 

Will headed back to his office where he threw his notebook down on the desk and reached behind his chair for his bag. Picking up his remaining papers and folders to grade, Will slipped them into the canvas as there was a knock on his door. “Come in.”

 

Rachel walked in, her teeth barred in a smile as she walked to the chair she’d been sitting in earlier. She leaned down to pick up her bag, and Will flung his over his shoulder. Standing up again, Rachel ran her thumb over the thick strap of the backpack. “Joshua’s very excited for rehearsal. He’s a transfer student from Cleveland, and he’s a senior.” Will’s eyes shifted back and forth slowly, not knowing what to say.

 

“Sounds like you two had a nice little chat,” he settled on, finally. Rachel walked quickly to the door, pausing to shrug her shoulders with a grin.

 

“He’s giving me a ride home. Have a good weekend, Mr. Schue.” She closed the door behind her, and Will took his time shutting down his office. The walk to his car was long in solitude (he had gotten used to walking out with Rachel), and he caught himself scanning the parking lot to see what this Josh kid drove. Slipping into his own junker, he shook his head to clear out the barrage of images that flooded his head, and he shifted into drive.

 

Ever since he’d noticed the similarities between Rachel and April, he’d been in a very weird place. He caught himself thinking about Rachel quite often. It wasn’t anything _inappropriate_ , just musing on the kind of person she was. His thoughts would drift to other gleeks, but it always came back to Rachel (everything always did, if he was being realistic).

 

The drive home was full of internal musings on glee and high school and Rachel Berry and a lot of _why?_ s (and even more that he didn’t think about for more than a too-long second). When he walked into his apartment (smaller and emptier and more confined) he dropped his bag to the floor by the couch and grabbed a beer. Flopping on the couch his feet landed on the coffee table and he clicked on the TV.

 

He flipped through the channels until he landed on _Oklahoma!,_ where he shook his head and took a pull of his beer. Curly’s too-friendly personality suddenly left a bad taste in his mouth, and Will continued to drink, the alcohol burning away any traces of Southern/Midwest/Whatever charm as he flipped through the channels.

 

()()()

 

It was hours (and more than a few bottles) later, when Will finally called it a night. After setting the glass in the sink, Will shucked off his dress clothes, tossing his tie to the back of his closet, until he was left in his t-shirt and shorts. Flicking off the lights and throwing his arm over his eyes as he laid on top of the covers, Will sighed into the darkness.

 

In the sudden lack of artificial light, Will was aware of the harsh stars forming behind his eyes, and grateful for the opportunity, he wished for a break in the never-ending string of thoughts. Silence, he wished for silence, and the disappearance of thoughts he didn’t know how to deal with, and other things he couldn’t form into coherent thoughts.

 

As he slipped into unconsciousness, he was rewarded with too-long seconds of Rachel.


End file.
